


Dreaming the Balinese Way

by draculard



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, Parks and Recreation
Genre: Chris's overwhelming positivity, Crack, Fluff, Freddy's overwhelming camp, Gen, Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort I Guess, Vaguely gay undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Freddy Krueger haunts Chris's dreams.





	Dreaming the Balinese Way

“ _I’m back, bitch_.”

Chris Traeger turns at the sound of the familiar, gravelly voice. His peaceful dream of running along a National Park trail dissolves around him when he sees the menacing figure at the end of the path -- a man in a ripped sweater and a dusty old fedora, his skin blotched with scars, his fingers adorned with sharp claws.

“Oh!” says Chris brightly, pointing at the man. “Freddy Krueger! Just the man I wanted to see!”

Freddy hesitates in the middle of scraping his claws threateningly against an oak tree. His theme music scratches to a halt. “You … wanted to see me?” he asks.

“Absolutely!” Chris jogged forward a few steps, pulling a small bottle from his weighted backpack. “I’ve been thinking about skincare routines for you, and I think I’ve got just the thing.”

Luckily, this is a dream, and Chris’s backpack is full of all sorts of goodies. He sets it on the ground and pulls out a tube of Scargenix and a tub of Eczema Honey, handing both to Freddy along with the Proactiv already in his hand.

“Now, personally,” Chris says, “ _my_ skin has always been immaculate, but that’s thanks to a lucky mixture of genetics, a healthy diet, and ample hydration.” He straightens up and puts the backpack back on, adjusting the straps. “Now, I’ve typed out a specific plan for you, so you know how to use these products. Here.” He unzipped a pocket on his windbreaker and procured a bright yellow zine with a lovingly-rendered before-and-after illustration of Freddy’s face on the cover.

Bemused, Freddy reached out and carefully grabbed the zine between two of his claws.

“Yellow,” he said flatly.

“Yellow is a happy color!” Chris chirped. “Just looking at it _literally_ invokes feelings of positivity.”

Freddy stared at the zine a little longer and then glanced around, noticing how bright and cheerful Chris’s dreamscape was. Small, beautifully-colored birds were singing in the trees. With a great deal of concentration, Freddy changed the dreamscape into a dark, hot warehouse cellar.

Chris looked around, his face breaking into a wide, blinding smile. “Why, this is outstanding!” he said. “So detailed! _You_ have a background in design, don’t you?”

Flummoxed, Freddy just shuffled his feet and nodded. “Took a community college class,” he said gruffly.

“Oh, it shows,” Chris assured him. Freddy sighed, and the terrifying dreamscape flickered before finally reverting back to Chris’s cheerful running trail.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Freddy said, half-questioningly. Chris’s eyes widened and he clapped a friendly hand against Freddy’s shoulder.

“Of _course_ not,” he said. His gaze was suddenly unbearably intense and Freddy had to look away. “You’re my dream buddy. I could never be scared of you. I spend _literally_ every waking moment looking forward to our interactions.”

Freddy sighed and nodded. When Chris pulled back, Freddy glanced around at the National Park in defeat and gave a little shrug.

“Alright,” he said. “Have fun on your jog, bitch.”

Chris perked up, smiling brightly again. “I will!” he said. “Have fun haunting people’s dreams in a vaguely sexual, somewhat inappropriate manner.”

Freddy nodded. “I will.” On the sunny running trail, Chris put his earbuds back in, humming to himself, and resumed his jog. Freddy turned away, fading back into his warehouse dreamscape where the cries of suffering children echoed around the walls. He scratched the back of his neck with one rusty claw, puzzled, and set his new skincare shelves on a shelf made of exposed pipes.

After a moment, Freddy glanced around and waved his hand, and the cries of suffering children stopped. There was a whirring noise as the dreamscape booted up, and then the warehouse was suddenly full of the sound of cheerful, chirping birds.


End file.
